Page 71 of Vows of Ruin

I crouch in front of Matthew, close enough he can smell the gun oil on my jacket. “Did you really think playing both sides would keep you safe, that us or Sebastian would actually believe anything you say?”

His good eye blinks. “Wh-what do you mean?”

Max leans against the wall, arms crossed, voice mocking. “Come on, Matthew. Sebastian isn’t going to let you live after being here all this time. He convinced you to join him, it obviously didn’t take much. So what would make him think you couldn’t be persuaded to our side?”

Wrecker pushes off the wall, grinning like a madman. “I vote we start removing pieces and sending them to his loved ones, before he disappears all together.”

I let that sink in, watching the confusion twist into dawning horror.

“You’ve been an errand boy,” I tell him, voice low. “Doing whatever Sebastian wanted. It was his idea for you to come here, wasn’t it?”

Matthew’s breathing picks up, chest rising and falling fast. I know he’s wondering how deep the rabbit hole goes, and how much of his usefulness just evaporated.

Matthew’s head droops forward, blood dripping from the cut above his eyebrow, breathing unevenly. Wrenley’s in front of him, that still, lethal calm that means she’s about to ruin someone.

“You think you’re in control here? He rasps, blood staining his lips. “You don’t understand. Sebastian—he’s not just coming for you. He’s building something. Something you can’t stop.”

Her head tilts. “Building what?”

He hesitates. Big mistake. The tip of her smaller dagger traces lazily under his jaw, just barely nicking. “Don’t make me ask twice.”

“He said…” Matthew’s voice cracks. “It’s not enough to take you now. Not anymore. He’s building you a stage—a perfect stage. Says it’ll be just like home.”

Wrenley’s eyes narrow.

“Not the one you live in now. The old one. The house you grew up in,” he continues, eyes darting between us. “He’s getting the exact wallpaper, the same curtains. Even had someone track down and recreate the furniture from your parents' house. Says the floor will creak in the same spots. He wants you to see you like you’re a kid again.”

She doesn’t react, which is somehow worse than if she did.

Matthew swallows hard and keeps talking. “He’s bringing the ones you love. Not to kill them—at least not right away. He wants them in the front row. Close enough to touch you but unable to move. Wants them to watch while—”

She presses the blade back to his cheek just enough to draw blood. “Careful.”

He smirks through the pain, voice almost mocking. “God, you two really are related.”

Her eyes spark. “Are you comparing me to Sebastian?”

“I’m saying you’re as fucked in the head as he is. Maybe that’s why he’s so obsessed, two broken pieces from the same set.”

I step forward, but Wrenley plunges the dagger into his thigh before I reach him. It's deep. His scream rips through the safehouse.

“Tell us everything.” she says softly, twisting the blade.

He’s panting now, trying to talk. “He’s calling it The Stage. Says it’ll be streamed to buyers, people with deep pockets, for a front-row seat to the last Hayes-Blackwood performance. After he’s done, he’ll auction off what’s left.”

The words hang heavy, but the danger in her smile is heavier.

“He wants you alive for days,” Matthew adds quickly, a maniacal smile spreading across his face. “Says the fear will taste sweeter if it lasts. He’s making a list, every person who’s ever touched you, helped you, even looked at you. He says by the end, you’ll be begging him to finish it.”

Wrenley steps back just enough to look at him like he’s already dead. “I’ll show you—and Sebastian—how fucking crazy I am when you threaten the people I love.”

Her arm hooks under his chin, jerks his head back, the dagger kisses across his throat. Blood sprays hot across the floor and my boots. She wipes her blade on Matthew’s shirt, slides it back into the sheath, and turns to the four of us with that glint that could cut steel. “Clean this up,” she says. “We’ve got work to do.”

She doesn’t blink. Doesn’t flinch. This isn’t the shock of her first kills; this is purpose. Precision. Control disguised as chaos. And fuck if it doesn’t light something in me I shouldn’t admit out loud. Max’s eyes meet mine. Yeah we both feel it.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Wrenley